


Broken Bits

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the fallout of Dick's "death" and Damian's return, emotions are running high. Jason tries his best to help, but there's only so much a man can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Bits

**Author's Note:**

> angst alert

The second he stepped inside the bunker, Jason knew something was wrong. It was the crashing that tipped him off—the sound of glass hitting concrete and shattering onto the floor. It rang through the building over and over again, three times in the moments that Jason spent on the threshold, trying to decide if he should run.  
In the end, he stayed— it had been a few hours since he’d done something stupid. Jason followed the sound of breaking china to one of the training rooms in the back and pulled open the door, fully prepared to deal with whatever happened to be inside.  
He wasn’t expecting to see Damian, glaring at the wall in front of him, surrounded by broken porcelain, and holding a plate in his bloody hands. His shoulders were shaking visibly. There were tears running down his face, which was focussed into an expression of pure rage. He barely glanced up when Jason came in, just launched his plate at the wall, where it fractured against the concrete and fell in pieces to the floor.  
“Oh my god, are you— shit!” Jason ducked out of the path of a ricocheting shard. “Are you okay?”  
Damian plucked another plate from his stack and hurled it into the corner, ignoring the spray of slivers that bounced back at him. Jason saw new cuts open along his forearms where the sleeves of his hoodie didn’t protect him. Damian didn’t seem to care.  
“Hey—” Jason stepped towards his brother, glass crunching underneath his boots. “Whatever you’re doing, just—”  
“What do you _WANT_?!” Damian screamed, finally turning to face him.  
“I want you to chill the hell out!” Jason yanked a third plate from Damian’s fingers and set it back on the floor. “What’s going on?”  
“It’s none of your business!”  
“Come on.” Jason swept the shards off the top of a bench and sat down, pointing to the space beside him. “Sit.”  
Damian didn’t move. He stared at his empty hands for a few seconds, then rubbed at his eyes, smearing blood across his face. His arms dropped to his sides.  
“What happened?” Jason waited for an answer, but there was no response. “Just tell me.”  
Damian took a few deep breaths, then looked up. “I was— I was asleep, and then I had those death nightmares again, and I—” He wrapped his arms around himself. “I went to see father, because that’s what I always do. He listens to me talk about them, and then—” Damian trailed off, and Jason had to force back the voice in his head that reminded him that Bruce never listened to him like that. Of course he didn’t.  
“Grayson was in the dreams tonight,” Damian continued, “And when I mentioned him to Father—” There were tears tracing lines through the blood around his eyes. “—he walked out.”  
“What?”  
“He left.” Damian finished. “He wouldn’t even look at me.”  
There were a few seconds of silence while Damian bit at his lip. He glanced down at his hands again, then up at Jason.  
“Is it my fault? Is it because I came back, and Grayson didn’t?”  
_Christ_. Jason fumbled for the right words, something reassuring, any kind of lie, but they all stuck in his throat. “I think— honestly, yeah, you could be right, but—” Damian groaned softly, swaying back and forth. “No, listen— it’s not your fault, but he’s… well, he’s done that before.”  
Damian’s head came up sharply. “To you? When I was—?”  
“Yeah.” Jason tried to smile, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. “Oh my sweet zombie child, you missed some drama.”  
“What did he do?”  
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Jason laughed shakily and pushed back the image of Bruce glaring at him from underneath the Ethiopian sky. “The point is, he let it go eventually. Don’t worry.”  
“I’m sorry about whatever he did.”  
“Yeah, well.” Jason managed a grin this time. “If it helps, he was pretty rough on Tim too.”  
“That does make me feel better, in a twisted kind of way.”  
“Me too.” Jason patted the bench again, and Damian started towards it. “Were those Alfred’s plates?”  
“Do I look stupid? I don’t want to die.” Damian sighed. “You know, again.” He sat down beside Jason and pulled his knees up to his chin. “I can’t go home right now.”  
“Then don’t.” Should he try to comfort him? Maybe put a hand on his shoulder? Damian must have noticed him watching because he curled in tighter on himself.  
“Don’t touch me.”  
“Okay.” It was times like this when Jason wished he knew how to fix a person— wished he didn’t know that people were impossible to fix. “It’ll be okay.”  
But all he could do was watch his brother cry.


End file.
